Spock's Hair
by Marlow the Even Greater
Summary: A tiny ficlet about Spock's hair. Jim leaves for a diplomatic meeting, and Spock gives himself a haircut. The results are not as he had hoped them to be. There's a little bit of Spirk implied, but it's mostly just for fun.


Spock and Jim had always had an agreement that the way they chose to live their lives was their own decision, so long as it didn't interfere with the way they chose to live their lives together. So yes, Jim could listen to a song from 1945 on repeat for hours on end, and yes, Spock could consistently wake up at 5:00 in the morning to prepare for work- as long as it wasn't harmful to their relationship, their decisions were their own, and given their separate backgrounds, this needed to be respected. But this time, Jim felt that this rule had to be overridden. Spock had always cut his own hair in a very precise manner- every Sunday, he would gather the tools need- a ruler, a pair of far too sharp scissors, and a worn-out towel for collecting the trimmings. He had grown rather quick at it; it only took him a matter of minutes, for the most part- it was, after all, the most efficient method of cutting hair. Spock wouldn't want it any other way.

The temptation to comment was far too strong for Jim to ignore- he had only been gone from the Enterprise for a week on an annual diplomatic conference, and Spock had somehow managed to cut his hair in the most sloppy, horrendous manner Jim had ever seen. It was slanted sharply to the left, some bits of hair much too short, some falling into his eyes a bit, and his sideburns were growing down the edges of his face, resulting in an odd, werewolfish style that was utterly ridiculous. It was even frizzing and tangled in some places; overall, it was a mess, making Spock look like an odd, placid space clown. How had no one commented on this already? Jim was indeed in mental conflict- he didn't want to defy their promise to each other, but this was his breaking point. He would not have his first officer looking like a child who abused his safety scissors; no, this was official Starfleet business, he decided, for who could take a highly-ranked officer seriously with that kind of haircut?

"Mr. Spock," Jim said at last, suppressing his smile with an obvious facade of professionalism, "May I speak to you? Privately?"

His first officer raised an eyebrow, but got up from his chair.

"Of course, Captain," he said, following Jim to his quarters.

"Spock," Kirk said, biting his inner lip as a subtle simper washed over his face, "What have you done?"

"I do not know to what you're referring, Captain."

"Come on, Spock," said Jim, no longer concealing the laughter bubbling out of his mouth, "You know what I'm talking about. What did you do to your hair?"

"I recall that we made an agreement-,"

"I've got to veto that proposal. You look you've never seen a comb, Spock- I can't allow my bondmate to have this kind of haircut."

"This has very little to do with our mental bond, Captain," Spock said, his face slowly becoming enveloped in green, "and as it defies our agreement, I insist that we no longer discuss it."

"Have you been taking hair tips from Chekov?" Jim's exuberant laughter was only growing more ludic with each word his first officer spoke.

"Captain, I hardly-,"

"Just tell me the story. Just tell me how it happened and I won't talk about it again." Jim's elation for anecdotes was ceaseless, and Spock knew that it wouldn't be quelled until he fulfilled the request.

"Upon your leaving for the diplomatic conference, my mother contacted me, insisting that I speak with my father. There was no logical reason for this interaction, but neither my father nor I desired to anger my mother, and accordingly conversed on unimportant subjects until the adequate amount of time had passed to fulfill my mother's appeasement was determined. Of these subjects, my father spoke of a more efficient way of cutting hair, describing it in detailed but inconsistent instructions. It was not until after he was finished that he realized that he had mistakenly relayed several instructions in the improper order. Due to this inauspicious error, my haircut did not result in its desired outcome."

A playful and inevitable smile spread like virus across Jim's face, nearly infecting Spock's.

"I can't leave you alone for _one_ week, Spock."

"The concept of beauty or, contrarily, physical drawback, is a mere concept of human perception, not recognized or accredited in many cultures."

"Yes, but-,"

"It is not a logical concept."

"_Yes,_ but-,"

"Captain, I see no further reason to continue this conversation."

"Spock."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Can you _please _let me fix it?"

Spock looked at his hands, raising both of his eyebrows. He hesitated for a brief moment, then looked back at Kirk with a very slight tilted look- his version of a smirk.  
"Thank you, Jim."


End file.
